


lights that splinter

by you_idjits



Series: love, in fire and blood [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kind of), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, cw blood, cw injuries, cw self-harm, those tags make it sound very sad and angsty which it... is not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_idjits/pseuds/you_idjits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a nightmare, but at least when he wakes Cas is beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lights that splinter

Dean dreams he is back in Purgatory. Everything is grey and gritty, his shoulder is aching with some phantom pain, and he is being chased by– something. Something dark and dangerous, fanged and furious like everything else in this godforsaken place.

The taste is the worst. Sharp and bitter, like gunmetal, like blood.

He is reaching for Cas’s hand, Cas is stumbling, Cas is bleeding. Bleeding all over the dead leaves. Benny is nowhere to be seen and there is blood everywhere, there is blood on Dean’s hands and in Dean’s mouth and–

He wakes up. Gasping and clutching at the sheets, he says, “Cas, Cas, Cas.”

The bed shifts as Cas rolls over. “Dean? What’s going on?”

“Cas,” he says, and the night air is too cold in his lungs, but the bed is warm, warm because Cas is beside him, Cas is safe beside him.

Cas flicks on the bedside lamp, washing the bedroom in an orange glow. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, warm and heavy. Dean sucks in jagged breaths.

“You had a nightmare?” Cas asks.

Dean twists his hands into the sheets between them. He closes his eyes and sees a flash of blood on dry brown leaves. He moves away from Cas’s hand and swings his feet over the side of the bed.

“Dean?” Cas stays in the bed. He rubs at his face, still recovering from being shocked awake. “Where are you going?”

Dean feels his throat start to close up. “Just need some air,” he says.

He goes to the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, stares at it, then pours it down the drain. He throws the glass against the floor. When it shatters, he flinches. Good.

Footsteps in the hall. Cas comes to the doorway. “Dean? Oh, Dean. What have you–”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles. “Shit, ‘m sorry. I’ll clean this up.” He gets to his hands and knees, scrabbling the pieces together. Oh. Glass shards in his palms.

“No, Dean, stop,” Cas says, joining him on the kitchen floor. He grabs Dean’s wrists and holds them up. “Dean, stop fighting me.”

“Just need to clean it up,” he says, and his hands are starting to sting. The blood is a bright, bright red, nothing like it was in Purgatory. Good.

“I’ll do it. Let me. Dean, stop.” Cas pushes him away, with force. He surrenders, leans back against the counter with his elbows against his knees. He would put his face in his hands if there weren’t already glass in them.

Cas picks up the pieces. He doesn’t look at Dean. He sweeps the floor, carefully, to catch even the smallest shards.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. “I’m sorry.”

Cas kneels between Dean’s feet and takes one hand gently in his own. He picks out the glass, piece by piece. Dean hisses with each one. Forty years in Hell and shit like this still hurts like a bitch.

“I just.” Dean swallows. “I had to prove to myself that this was. You know. Real.”

Cas’s shoulders tense. He says, “But I couldn’t do that?”

“It’s not–” Dean shakes his head. He wants Cas to look at him, at least. “I can’t let you do that, be that for me. Because if you die and I wake up and the bed is empty, then I’m gone. I’m done for. So I can’t let you.”

“That’s not how this works,” Cas says. “You don’t get to decide these things.” His hands are steady, careful with Dean’s. Like Dean is something beloved. He takes a paper towel and dabs at the blood on Dean’s palms. “I am here, with you. That’s real. Right?”

“Right.”

“And I was sharing your bed when you woke up. That was real. Right?”

“Right. But what if–”

“No. No what ifs. Not anymore.”

“You can’t be sure–”

“I’m sure,” Cas says. “You have to trust me on that.”

Dean feels his chest constricting. This is not the kind of conversation he likes. He feels a dull throbbing in his palms. Cas is looking at him now, finally, only now he can’t look back. He closes his eyes.

“Dean. Can you trust me on that?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, voice breaking. He tries again. “Yeah. Okay.”

They sit there for a long minute. Dean focuses on aligning his breaths with Cas’s. They breathe in together, they breathe out together. Together.

“Come back to bed,” Cas says.

“Not tonight,” Dean says.

Cas nods. He gets to his feet, then helps Dean to follow. “We can watch a movie. Sam told me about something called _The Princess Bride_?”

Dean recognizes the distraction for what it is, and he’s grateful for it. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s watch that.”

Cas doesn’t let go of his hand, though. Dean’s grateful for that too.

 

 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on [tumblr](http://shootingstarcas.tumblr.com/post/113546632161/lights-that-splinter-a-coda-to-my-dcbb-dean). Title comes from [Saying Your Names](http://yupnet.org/siken/2008/03/19/saying-your-names/) by Richard Siken. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Thanks to [Onja](http://appleblossomdean.tumblr.com/) and [Tasha](http://kraziiisme.tumblr.com/) for editing.


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